


That Other Kind of Breakfast

by grizzly_bear_bane



Series: And Am I Born to Die [2]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Inception Big Bang 2020, Inception Big Bang Challenge, Kitchen Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:07:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25653373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grizzly_bear_bane/pseuds/grizzly_bear_bane
Summary: Arthur gets distracted watching Eames workout in the backyard and burns breakfast. Eames isn't the least bit upset about it.
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Series: And Am I Born to Die [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859908
Comments: 12
Kudos: 75
Collections: Inception Big Bang 2020





	That Other Kind of Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> For Inception Big Bang 2020!

+

Eames nearly dropped the kettlebell, he was laughing so hard. 

He could smell breakfast cooking from the window as he worked out in their little backyard. _Burning_. 

The morning had been so lovely and peaceful, the weather actually agreeable enough to let him come out in his cut off sweatpants and nothing else. Bliss. And now, the faint smell of food being tortured to death.

It had been the same for the past two days. Ever since Eames had gotten back into a routine of waking early and coming outside to exercise, Arthur had been… off.

Why? The reason was silly. Eames’ physical therapy was coming to an end, and with it, all the attention Arthur was able to conveniently place on Eames to avoid focusing on himself.

Arthur had gained a stone and that stone looked _good_ on his boy. He had an ass to grab and a waist to squeeze, thighs to dig bruises into and Eames couldn’t keep his hands off.

But a stone for Arthur meant anxiety with a blast radius as wide as an atomic bomb’s. 

And distractions. Before, it was zoning out during therapy and the veteran support group. Now, it was burnt breakfast—breakfast that Arthur refused to let Eames cook. Before Iraq shipped him home in a wheelchair with his legs and an arm missing, that kitchen was Eames’ with all the grease and butter a man needed to know that he was truly alive. 

Now? Sure, turkey sausage was better than the ‘bacon’ Arthur swore wasn’t made out of grass, and the paper thin cream cheese pancakes _were_ delicious. Eating healthier _was_ making them both feel better. Hell, Arthur simply eating _at all_ and keeping it down made Eames plenty happy, but… 

“Damn it, Arthur,” he muttered to himself as the fire alarm screamed out to Eames to make sure the kitchen wasn’t on fire. 

Arthur was fanning the smoke with a newspaper to help the opened window and stove vent. He was livid. 

And had the utter audacity to glare at Eames! 

Eames walked to the stove and stared at the black sausages and eggs. Burnt to damn near to ashes. 

Arthur huffed. “Well, this _is_ your fault.”

“ _My_ fault? I was outside!”

Arthur gave him a look that would have been so condescending in the past that Eames could contemplate choking him out and still sleep with a clear conscience, but now that Eames was back on his feet and bulking up again, it finally clicked why Arthur was so distracted lately. The only thing that look said now was that Eames clearly didn't know how hot he was to his boy.

Arthur tsked, crossing his arms, his cheeks pink. “Go shower while I attempt to actually feed us this time.”

“ _Darling_.” Eames tried his best to hide his grin but he failed. Arthur’s ears were red and it was too adorable not to be charmed to bits. “Come here.”

“Hell no. You’re sweaty and it’s gross. Don’t touch me.”

“Arthur, you are _so_ full of it,” he purred, catching Arthur by his baggy tshirt. “Are you wearing underwear?”

“Are you?” Arthur couldn’t help but stare, knowing the answer already from the sizable bulge in Eames’ sweats. That thing had been swinging around the whole time Eames had been using his jump rope. It was how Arthur had lost the eggs to the frying pan. 

They both lick their lips, distracted; Arthur, by the bulge that kept getting bigger in those sweats the more Eames lifted Arthur’s shirt and found only naked hips and tanlines where Arthur’s underwear would have been. 

They were so close now, Eames could brush his lips against Arthur’s. He dug his fingers in those narrow hips, bruising them, before he pulled Arthur the last little half step.

Arthur gasped against Eames’ lips, feeling Eames’ dick pressed hard against his. With his eyes closed and his breath panting harder and harder against soft, plush lips he wanted to bite, he tugged the knot out of Eames’ drawstring and eased his pants down enough to free that length. It was hot to touch and thick, dragging and gliding against his. 

“Arthur?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m starving,” Eames teased against Arthur’s lips. “You still owe me breakfast, so… what are you going to do to fix that?” He was so hard just locking Arthur in that gaze once his boy finally took his eyes off of Eames’ dick. There was nothing shy and timid about Arthur, even when he wasn’t feeling his best, but here, now? Eames knew that the next thing that came out of that boy’s mouth was going to end with Arthur carrying his come in that ass all afternoon. He braced for it.

Arthur smirked, watching Eames from under his lashes, his hands squeezing their lengths together. He didn't say anything at all when he stepped back, taking those soft lips with him but not far. He leaned back against the corner of the fridge and lifted his leg up on the counter. He glanced down at his dick in hand and arched a brow. 

Eames stroked his chin. “Uh-uh.”

“No?”

“Turn around.”

Arthur’s devilish laugh filled the kitchen. He turned, hiking his knee up on the counter, his chest pressed the fridge now, his shirt wrapped up in his fist. He eyed Eames over his shoulder, giving him a glorious view of his breakfast. “Better?”

He licked his lips again, nodding. “Perfect.” 

Arthur bit his lip, feeling Eames’ tongue tease his hole as one big hand swept up his thigh to hold him place. The other tugged his balls and stroked his length quickly. He tensed, trying not to squeal when Eames’ stubble tickled up his inner thigh, but it only made Eames press his tongue in deeper. He remembered a time that didn’t seem so long ago when they couldn’t do this, but Eames’ prosthetics were strong and his grip even stronger. 

He had to hold onto the fridge when his knees went weak. Eames had his cockhead between his lips, mercilessly attacking his balls and asshole whenever Arthur moaned louder. “Fuck, Eames!” He reached back and spread his ass for him, frowning when Eames stopped. “What’s wrong?”

Eames was staring at that hand on that cheek with an expression Arthur had never seen before. He swatted Arthur’s hand aside and grabbed both cheeks hard enough to make Arthur growl. 

And then, Eames bit one.

Eames had to kiss the bite mark quickly, fearing Arthur’s wrath only… 

“Do it again.”

“Arthur, sometimes I want to strangle you and then there are times like this when I am so, so, _so_ happy that you’re a massive slu—”

Arthur reached back and caught Eames by his hair and made him bite him again, as impatient as ever.

“You brat,” Eames huffed, smacking his ass, delighted to see it bounce. He smirked hearing Arthur try and fail to muffle that precious little whimper. He moaned, kissing a trail up Arthur’s spine and carried that baggy shirt with him.

It hit the floor in a pile with his own shorts. He reached under Arthur’s leg to rummage in the drawer. 

Not fast enough for Arthur. He caught one of Eames’ hands and brought it back to his dick to stroke it. He leaned back against Eames’ chest with a sigh. “I swear to God, Eames.”

“Hush, you.” He tore the lube packet with his teeth and made quick work of slicking himself and slowly fingerfucked Arthur, teasing him again to hear that ‘hangry’ growl. He tsked when Arthur pushed back against him. “Always in _such_ a hurry to get yourself hurt.”

Arthur moaned up to the ceiling, his back arching and toes curling. “But I like when you bully me!” Eames’ thrusts were so hard and lazy, every breath Arthur could catch was fucked right back out of him. In this position every muscle of his was tense trying to keep his balance. It made that stretch ache but he loved it. He wouldn’t last long and didn’t care. “Faster,” he begged, knowing Eames wouldn’t listen, and sure enough those strokes were even slower now, driving Arthur wild. He keened, trying to push back, but Eames smacked his ass and held him in place. 

Eames groaned, sinking all the way up in his boy and stopped, his eyes closed just to feel Arthur squeeze him. He nipped the back of his neck before snapping his hips at a quicker pace. He was dripping sweat down Arthur’s back, his thumbs pressed in the little dimples just over that ass. “God, I love you.”

“Good!” He pushed back, holding onto Eames’ arm and the counter when Eames grabbed his cock and pumped Arthur’s release over his hand. Behind him, he could hear Eames grunting louder, panting as he got himself closer and closer. 

Eames squeezed his eyes shut, his hold on that hip digging another bruise into tanned skin when he came deep in Arthur. He wrapped his arms around him and moaned into Arthur’s hair, smiling like a fool. “I’m still hungry.”

Arthur winced, bringing his leg down from the counter. He panted into Eames’ kiss and turned in his arms to kiss him deeper. He planted a sweet kiss on Eames’ nose before he patted his face. “You cook.” 

Eames frowned, watching Arthur strut towards the stairs. “Can’t we shower together first?”

Arthur snickered. Eames sounded so pitiful and looked even more neglected when Arthur glanced back and caught him pouting. He sighed and rolled his eyes before he snapped his fingers at him like he was a dog. “Come on, then.”

Eames grinned, hurrying after him. He hefted Arthur up over his shoulder, triumphant as that brat yelled and cursed all the way to the bathroom.

+


End file.
